Moonspear And two left feet, you know I always drop

At first, he didn’t quite like it when MOTHER left.

But like all things, he grew accustomed to her coming and going, often replaced by any one of a rotating cast of familiar faces. He had not quite entirely associated who was who, with the exception of course of the wolf known as FATHER.

Today however, he too was not quite interested in the affairs of what was going on, instead glumly lying on the den floor. Restlessness imbued him but he could not quite figure what would quell it, let alone place a name to the discomfort that came and went. Growing pains were perhaps a more apt way of putting it; they grew and their world seemed to stay rather small.

He side-eyed Mira as she made for the den mouth, but did not raise a clamor about it. Instead his mouth opened to yawn and he stretched, only to slump over on his side with a rush of air escaping him. His sister slipped from his view in that brief moment and his eyes opened again, the outside world seemed to be blinding. And it was, save the cut of her silhouette.

He closed his eyes then; this was boring.